


This Is Not A Love Story

by maraudertimes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6428983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudertimes/pseuds/maraudertimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Dear Annabelle...</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Not A Love Story

  
My mother told me when I was young, “Be careful of love, Claudia. It’ll twist your brain and leave you thinking up is down and right is wrong.”

So when I began to fall for Albus Potter, I was scared. It all started in Potions class when Professor Devlin made us partners. He was the outspoken, daring Ravenclaw, I was the shy, bookish Gryffindor. Seems a little backwards, doesn’t it? But as I was saying, Albus Potter was made my Potions partner on day and everything I had known was flushed down a toilet.

The first few weeks it was normal, albeit a little awkward. Here I was, typical blonde-haired and blue-eyed girl, member of the Gobstones Club, top of the class, shy beyond belief, and Albus was a dark-haired, green-eyed, glasses-wearing Seeker, seemingly unafraid of anything. I’ve often wondered if the Sorting Hat messed up and sorted us into the wrong houses, but I’ve never had an actual answer.

But as shy as I was, Albus wasn’t going to let me stay quiet. After three weeks in almost complete silence, he had asked me how my day was going. I smiled and said, “Good.” The next class, he asked again and I responded the same way. We kept up this charade for a week before he asked me another question: “How’s my sister?”

The sister in question, Lily, was two years younger than us and in Gryffindor as well. I saw her in the Common Room every so often, but the majority of my time was spent doing homework among my dorm mates and best mates Allie, Jenna, and Stacey, hanging out with said best mates in our dormitory, or reading in some hidden alcove I had managed to stumble upon.

But nonetheless, I had answered in my usual way: “Good.”

After five classes of this routine, he asked me a third question: “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” At first I was surprised that he was actually trying to carry a conversation, but I quickly recovered. “No,” I had said.

To this day I still cringe when I think about how inept I was at keeping a conversation going. But Albus had smiled and laughed. When I gave him a strange look he had explained that he half expected me to say ‘good’ like I normally did. At that I had smiled as well and we turned back to our assignment at hand.

Next time we had Potions I expected more questions but he wasn’t there. This cousin Rose, another Ravenclaw, informed me that his father had been hurt at work and that his brother and sister had also left Hogwarts to go visit Mr. Potter at St. Mungo’s. I had been worried for him, but I didn’t dare ask any more questions. He missed a week’s worth of class.

The next time I saw him was instead, surprisingly, not in Potions. I had been reading in one of my hidey-holes (an empty classroom that time), when three bodies tumbled out of the fireplace on the opposite side of the room. I had shrieked and then brandished my wand before realizing it was the Potters. When Albus realized it was me, he smiled and told his siblings to go on – “I’ll take care of this.”

He had asked me to lower my wand, which I did, and then he walked over and sat down on a desk, gesturing for me to do the same. We sat there, not moving, not talking, not doing anything. I began to count the grey bricks on the wall in front of me, but I had lost count after a while. Finally, after several long minutes of sitting in silence, I took the initiative and pushed my shyness down deep inside me.

“Are you okay?” I had asked.

Albus’s head shot up and he had smiled. “You’re talking to me!”

My cheeks had flared, blood rushing up to them as I slowly nodded. He beamed and I had felt the corners of my own mouth turn up.

“What’s with the change?” he had asked cheekily.

I shrugged and had then looked at the ground, my cheeks still blazing with my embarrassment, but Albus hadn’t been put off by my sudden withdrawal.

“I’m… okay. Did Rose tell you what happened?”

I had nodded, finally looking up into his brilliant green eyes.

“So you know about my dad. You know that the ‘Great Harry Potter’ is not invincible.” It hadn’t been a question.

His face had puckered as if the words left a sour taste in his mouth. I had slowly taken one of his hands with the both of mine. He had looked up at me, surprise written on his face.

“Do you want him to be invincible?”

He had sighed and lay back on the desk, though he kept his hand in mine and even entwined our fingers. “I don’t know, it’s just… I grew up with people in awe that I was Harry Potter’s son. Part of me has always held on to the fantasy that he can’t be beat. And then when he gets hurt…”

“You feel as though every great thing people have told you about him has been a lie,” I had finished for him. “Or greatly exaggerated.”

“Yes!” Albus had exclaimed, shooting back up to a sitting position, his hand still firmly in mine. “You get that feeling too?”

I had blushed again and slowly nodded. “My dad dies when I was young. Whenever my mum tells me how amazing and brave he was, how he was one of the best aurors at the Ministry…” I had trailed off, tears welling in my eyes, distinctly aware of Albus’s thumb rubbing circles on the back of one of my hands. “How could he have been so great if he was killed on a routine raid?”

We had sat there in silence, not looking at each. The only interaction we had with one another was Albus’s slow thumb circles. Some of the tears in my eyes had spilled over and I had quickly wiped them away. My mind had been racing, documenting every sound, every breath one of us had taken during that entire conversation since he first tumbled out of the fireplace. That’s probably why I still remember it to this day. Finally, after what had felt like an interminable amount of time, Albus broke the silence.

“You know what this pity party needs?” I had looked over at him questioningly even as he continued. “Ice cream!”

“And where do you propose we get this ice cream?” I had asked, cringing as my voice broke from the crying.

Albus had smirked and leaned in closer, sending my pulse skyrocketing. “Ooh! Big words! For a moment there I thought you were a Ravenclaw. And we’ll be going to Hogsmeade. There’s a little shop across from the Three Broomsticks that sells the best ice cream I’ve ever had.”

My cheeks had flared again, his proximity making my stomach flip-flop. “Ooh!” I retorted, trying hard to supress the blush in my cheeks and sound as confident as he was. “Facing danger head on as you break the rules for something as insignificant as ice cream! For a moment there I thought you were a Gryffindor.”

Albus had smiled and jumped off his desk. “Well, from one semi-Ravenclaw, semi-Gryffindor to another: you in?”

He still hadn’t let go of my hand and tugged on it, sending me flying off the desk and into his arms. Our faces were millimeters apart and I felt my knees go weak as he stared into my eyes. Summoning all the Gryffindor courage I had, I responded.

“Let’s do this.”


End file.
